Category Archives: Technology

I wrote a text asking about my granddaughter’s team number so I could buy her a volleyball shirt.

Ding went my phone. Here is the text I received back.

“U r so sweet, but she already has this. U r hot!!!”

Had I texted a long lost lover by mistake? Was there some handsome stranger out there who had a secret crush on me? I closed my eyes and for a brief, but spectacular moment, I was the most desirable woman on earth.

Who was the mystery texter? I texted back…“Was this message from MY son? “Sweet? Hot? R U sick?”

Ding went my phone and the following text message was received. “Oh shit! Thought u were one of my ladies!”

To all sons out there….a bit of advice from one of your mothers. Read this cautionary tale and check that number before you hit “send.”

Uh oh. The window’s open. The screen must be broken. There’s a bird in the house.

Ridiculous. Go back to your dream.

I think it’s flying around the living room.

What if it’s not a bird? What if it’s a bat?

If it’s a bat, then we’ll have to go for rabies shots.

No, get a hold of yourself. Bats don’t make sounds. They use that echolocation stuff. It’s one of our phones.

We just charged our cell phones. It must be the smoke detector.

“Wake up, Jerome.” He snores.

Chirp! Chirp!

Oh my God! What if it’s the carbon monoxide detector? Do we even have a carbon monoxide detector? Is it that red and white thing that’s been hanging in the basement for twenty years? There must be a gas leak. I must be delirious, probably dying from the poison gas.

“Jerry, wake up. We gotta get out of here. I think we are unconscious. We’re dying.”

He snores.

She tiptoes out of the bedroom to investigate.

Chirp! Chirp!

The noise is definitely coming from behind her, in their bedroom.

She whirls and steps back. “Oh my God, Jerry! It’s in this room. I think someone has been recording us.”

“Boring movie,” he speaks for the first time. He turns over.

Who had done recent work in their house? Cable guy? Electrician? Which one of them installed the camera? She looks up at the ceiling fan. Was that little button there last week?

She looks down at her bleach stained green tee shirt and ratty sweats, and then at her snoring husband.

“You’re right,” she says as she gets back into bed, “pretty boring.” She gives a quick wave to the ceiling fan, pulls the covers to her neck, and goes back to sleep.

I am trying to Tweet. In fact, I have been registered with Twitter for almost 10 months, and I have only made 7 Tweets. That’s because I get totally confused.

For Facebook, I have no idea what I’m doing. For starters, I still can’t tell the difference between the pages I see and the pages that everybody else sees.

When I am inept, I get nervous. When I get nervous— I eat.

Out there in the world, I see everyone else clicking, clicking, clicking. I do not click. I write, with a pen, on a little pad Then I go home and put my thoughts into my blog. I love to write. That’s not my problem. Writing is my comfort zone.

But only about twelve people read my blog and three of them are my first cousins.

Getting my writing found is NOT my comfort zone. I must reach out and use social media. That’s why I am nervous.

When I am nervous, I eat.

My Two Imaginary Friends Are At War Again

Grim says, “Just Tweet. Start already. You’re old and getting older.”

I say, “I don’t know how to Tweet. I get mixed up with retweeting, mentioning, modified Tweet, hat tip, replying, hashtags, linking, following.

Overthinker says, “Sit down and draw up a plan to plan for planning to link.”

Grim Streaker says, “Just retweet somebody. Become part of the community. Pretend you are at a cocktail party. Join the conversation.

And now, Nervous Nibbler, my new imaginary friend arrives.

Nervous Nibbler says, “Speaking of cocktail parties, pour a small glass of wine. Have some cheese with your wine. It will calm you down and then you will begin to make a plan for writing your plan on planning to use Twitter.

I looked at a few Tweets on Twitter from the people I follow. One of them was from Lois Alter Mark who wrote about her own writing process. I loved what she wrote! I think I will tell her on Twitter. I’d like to tell other people how great she is too.

Overthinker chimes in, “Go back and read the Twitter help columns again, Rose. Be careful. You might write something that everybody will see. What if you do it the wrong way? Everybody will know you don’t know what you’re doing.”

I knew Nervous Nibbler would have to put her own two cents in. “This calls for some salsa and chips,” she said. “Perhaps you might want to round it off with a donut.”

Grim Streaker Wins the Contest!

Grim Streaker finally set me straight, again. “Rose, put down the donut. You loved Lois Alter Mark’s article. Just tell her in as many ways as you can.

I respond in panic, “How do I do that? Should I retweet her? Or do I link to her blog or her Twitter account here on this very blog? I don’t’ know what to do first.”

Nervous Nibbler thrives on my indecision. “Rose,” she says, “make a ham and cheese sandwich. Add some mayo, some chips and a pickle.”

I will make the sandwich, but after I write this link. Then, I will do the best I can on Twitter.

True Story: I knew a lady who was convinced there were little green men in her computer. She was certain they were watching her and laughing at her. Then the lady went “away,” and took lots of new medicines. Vouchers for affordable psychiatric care should be included in all computer start up packages. Thank you, and please allow me to continue.

So I bring home my new laptop from the store. It’s been pre-loaded with all sorts of good stuff, and I’ve been told it’s ready to use. I open the box, and take out the laptop, its cord and some pieces of paper with receipts. There is nothing else in the box. I shake out the box (yes, like they do on TV), and nothing else drops out.

My heart sinks. “There’s no instruction book?” I say to Jerome, the Great and Good, who is sitting in the other room realizing that he is not going to be having a fun day.

“Rose, it’s all done online these days,” he says gently, assuming his usual position of cradling his shaking head in his hands. “You’ll find help online.”

“Waddyamean I’ll find help online?” I wail. “Help from whom? Toshiba? Microsoft Windows? Windows 8? Optimum Cable? The Little Green Men? I need help to get online— to get help online? Where are the tutorials?”

He makes the mistake of saying, “Tutorials for what?”

“If I knew what I needed the tutorials for, I wouldn’t need the tutorials,” I hiss.

“Rose, just turn it on and start,” Jerome, the Great and Good speaks gently. “You can’t break it.”

“I will if I throw it out the window,” I mumble.

I didn’t throw it out the window because I was afraid of the Little Green Men who were watching me.

Your laptop crashes. Literally it hits the hard floor with a bang. You find out that the hard drive can be transferred but, alas, the motherboard is dead. You need a new laptop.

You go to a store, buy a new laptop, get help transferring your files from the old laptop, take your laptop home, do the quick start up, and go about the business of your life, with a sense of competence and peacefulness. Perhaps you whistle while you work.

I am not you. I am The Nothing Expert, and I never whistle when it comes to technology.

I snarl.

“I want to do this quickly,” I spit at my husband, Jerome the Great and Good. Jerome is an expert on buying anything and getting the most for his money. Unlike me, Jerome would never refer to the broken laptop’s Mother Board as the Mother-F—ker Board.

“I don’t want any hassles with this new laptop, ” I say. “ I want them to set everything up, teach me what I need to know, and let me hit the ground running. Also, this time, I do not want to cry a lot and throw things.”

And so Jerome and I went forth and shopped; it seemed like forty days and forty nights. We went to Best Buy…to Staples….online …and then back to Staples and so on until we found the Store with the best price.

And finally we bought a laptop, and a service contract package, and a virus package, and a cloud package, and Microsoft Office 365 Package because now we were going to use Windows 8. The Store assured us that we would receive lots of help from them.

We met them. He was Bill, the Tech Guy, whose daily hours were something like 4 p.m. to 4:17 p.m. For another hundred dollars, Bill was going to transfer all of the stuff from the old laptop to the new laptop and explain all of the new Windows stuff to us.

“Bill, when will I have my laptop loaded up and ready to go?” I asked. I wanted to add the word, “sweetie,” but I refrained.

“In a day or two,” said Bill.

Jerome and I were delighted that Bill could transfer files from our old laptop to our new one. We left both laptops in Bill’s loving care. Jerry and I might have even left the Store holding hands.

The next day Bill did not come in to work. He was ill.

In the Store where we bought our laptop, there were many, many people who were proficient at selling laptops. There were no people, other than Bill, who were good at fixing laptops. And so, our eager new laptop sat right next to our sad old laptop, on their shelf, in the Store, untouched.

Then Bill had family trouble.

I stopped talking to Jerome, the Great and Good. I started using more bad words whenever the subject of the new laptop came up. Jerome put his head in his hands, and he was sad.

After an eternity, Bill came back. He handed over the new fully loaded laptop, and after spending about 51 seconds explaining its new features to us, he moved on to his other chores.

As Jerome drove me and our new laptop home, I swaddled it in my arms and cooed to it. I promised to take care of it and not drop it on the floor, like I did to its predecessor.

I didn’t drop my new laptop. All I did was try to use it. Will this marriage survive? Is there any connection between motherboards and waterboards? Tune in to my next post.